Life according to a Malfoy
by NoNewsIsGoodNews
Summary: Draco Malfoy's biggest goal in life is to live up to his family's name. But how far will he go when he gets his biggest task yet: killing Albus Dumbledore. Draco's sixth year at Hogwarts.
1. Chapter 1

**Life according to a Malfoy**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Harry Potter.

Draco knew all too well that he was going to be walking in his father's footprints soon. Almost too soon, according to Draco. But making his father Lucius proud and seeing Narcissa smile at him would make it all wortwhile. He just knew it.

From an early age Draco had been taught 'the most basic of knowledge' – Lucius had called it so while pouring himself some Firewhisky – that Purebloods were superior to Mudbloods. And of course Draco had believed it with a heartbeat. He knew that his father's words were not to be ignored. But as time passed he grew sceptical about it.

As his Sixth Year in Hogwarts almost came to an end he realized that Blaise, although a funny guy, was not someone he enjoyed hanging out with.

They were in the Great Hall having breakfast. Draco had found himself staring at Potter and his friends, all the while Blaise chatted vividly about some rich girl that he'd met in Italy. Draco decided to tune everything out by making some clattering noises with his spoon against a bowl. Somehow, strangely enough, he couldn't stop staring at the Golden Trio.

They were laughing loudly and making funny faces as they did so. If Draco were in a better mood he'd definitely make fun of Scarhead's stupid glasses, which were slipping further down his nose as he laughed. But today all he could think of was how genuienly happy the lot looked. Draco would never admit it, but seeing them made something within him sting. Although he quite knew what that feeling was, he never wanted to admit it. He only stopped staring at them when Blaise finally turned his attention to Draco, smirking at him.

"You're getting porridge all over your sleeves."

That night, Draco couldn't sleep.

**Author's note:** This is my first story here on . Originally I had planned to make this a oneshot, but I'm thinking about writing at least two more chapters – up to the point where Draco confronts Dumbledore on the Astronomy Tower.

I know this chapter was short, but I promise that I will make the other two chapters longer.:)

I'd love to get some feedback too, but it's not necessary.

-**NoNewsIsGoodNews**


	2. A drastic measure

**Life according to a Malfoy**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Harry Potter.

The day Draco found out about his task, he had been sitting at his desk at Malfoy Manor. He had recently re-discovered the joy of painting. When he was younger he used to paint flowers and big oak trees on the walls in his room – which caused Narcissa to throw a tantrum – and he was not allowed to lift his pencil for three months. After the months had passed, Lucius dragged Draco into his chambers.

"I will not have you occupying your time _painting_", Lucius had said venomously, clasping his hands firmly on his cane. Draco stood there with wide eyes, looking up at his father as he continued talking. "You ought to learn some useful spells. Aunt Bellatrix is in the main hall as of now, and you know she doesn't like to be kept waiting."

Draco swallowed hard at that. He knew it did not bode well when Bellatrix came to visit.

Draco had shuddered at the memory. To this day, it was still a very strong memory to him. He remembered the screams of agony, both from children and adults, as Bellatrix had used the Cruciatus Curse on them. All of this because of Potter.

_Potter,_ Draco thought with disdain. He could not believe a scrawny, four-eyed idiot, was the cause of all of this. If he would not be alive, none of this would have happened. Draco's parents would live at peace, and he – Draco – would probably be happy.

_Although,_ Draco thought as he dipped his pencil in a bowl of water, _if Potter weren't alive, the Dark Lord would still live…_

His musings were interrupted as the door was slammed open. Narcissa was dressed in a simple long black dress, her blonde hair in a ponytail and some white strands hanging down her cheekbones. She looked quite a frightening sight: her pale skin gave a huge contrast against the dark fabric, and her eyes looked, strangely enough, less grey than usual. What shocked him enough was that Narcissa looked close to tears.

"Mother, what is it?" Draco had asked as he stood up from his chair. He had walked toward her, and though he knew she did not like to be touched – she seemed to get easily stressed out when Draco tried to embrace her – he had put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

Narcissa had smiled sadly at him, brushing away some strand from his face.

"Draco, you must know that I am very proud of you. The choices that you've made in life haven't always been… easy," Narcissa had said with a sigh. "But nothing will compare to what you will do now."

"Mother, what are you-" Draco had asked with a frown. It was not like his mother to say those kind of things, and while it did make him feel warm inside, he suspected something was about to happen. Something involving him.

Narcissa had stepped away leaving a gap between them. She drew a heavy breath and looked Draco in the eyes.

"The Dark Lord requires your service," she had said in a tiny whisper.

And now Draco's Sixth Year at Hogwarts was closing in on its end. For others, this was something to cheer about. But no one knew about the burden Draco was carrying.

When he had found about what the Dark Lord wanted him to do, he _knew _he had to obey. As much as he struggled against it inside, no matter how much he did not want to do it, all he could think about was his family. If he would say no to such a task, the Dark Lord would most certainly kill his entire family.

It was night and Draco paced around in the Slytherin Common Room. Everyone had went to bed an hour ago, and afterwards it seemed as though it had gotten darker. The clouds were grey, the sky had fallen black and there were no signs of stars in the nightsky.

Draco sat down in one of the many couches surrounding the fireplace. He had never felt so alone in his life. Never had he come to question the Dark Lord's measures – along with his dad's – but killing someone could surely not justify anything?

_No one understands me_.

Without realizing it, Draco had been crying. His lips trembled and his eyes would not seem to stop seething out unshed tears. He wiped away his tears with his sleeves and drew a heavy breath.

An hour later, his Dark Mark began to hurt. Draco clutched his arm tightly. He knew it was the time now. And there was no turning back.

He remembered the words all too clear.

_Tonight. Be ready._

**AN:** In this chapter I wanted to write about some of Draco's past, and where he was when he got the task to kill old Dumblepops. And also how it affected Narcissa, since she really cares for him. Of course Lucius does too, but he shows it in a different way – and I promise I'll write some of his reactions in the next chapter.

-**NoNewsIsGoodNews**


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